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[Illustration: "The little steamer rushed madly into the opening."
Page 293.]
THE GREAT WESTERN SERIES
UP THE RIVER
OR
YACHTING ON THE MISSISSIPPI
BY
OLIVER OPTIC
AUTHOR OF "YOUNG AMERICA ABROAD" "THE ARMY AND NAVY SERIES" "THE
WOODVILLE SERIES" "THE STARRY FLAG SERIES" "THE BOAT CLUB
STORIES" "THE LAKE SHORE SERIES" "THE UPWARD AND
ONWARD SERIES" "THE YACHT CLUB SERIES"
"THE RIVERDALE STORIES" ETC.
_WITH EIGHT ILLUSTRATIONS_
BOSTON
LEE AND SHEPARD PUBLISHERS
NEW YORK CHARLES T. DILLINGHAM
1882
COPYRIGHT,
1881,
BY WILLIAM T. ADAMS.
BOSTON STEREOTYPE FOUNDRY,
NO. 4 PEARL STREET.
TO MY YOUNG FRIEND
MINNIE ETHEL ADAMS,
This Book
IS AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED.
THE GREAT WESTERN SERIES.
GOING WEST; OR, THE PERILS OF A POOR BOY.
OUT WEST; OR, ROUGHING IT ON THE GREAT LAKES.
LAKE BREEZES; OR, THE CRUISE OF THE SYLVANIA.
GOING SOUTH; OR, YACHTING ON THE ATLANTIC COAST.
DOWN SOUTH; OR, YACHT ADVENTURES IN FLORIDA.
UP THE RIVER; OR, YACHTING ON THE MISSISSIPPI.
LEE AND SHEPARD, Publishers, Boston.
PREFACE.
UP THE RIVER is the sixth and last of "The Great Western Series." The
events of the story occur on the coast of Florida, in the Gulf of
Mexico, and on the Mississippi River. The volume and the series close
with the return of the hero, by a route not often taken by tourists, to
his home in Michigan. His voyaging on the ocean, the Great Lakes, and
the Father of Waters, is finished for the present; but the writer
believes that his principal character has grown wiser and better since
he was first introduced to the reader. He has made mistakes of
judgment, but whatever of example and inspiration he may impart to the
reader will be that of a true and noble boy, with no vices to disfigure
his character, and no low aims to lead him from "the straight and
narrow path" of duty.
The author has a copy of his first book before him as he writes. On the
title-page is this line: "A Tale of the Mississippi and the
South-West." The preface, dated 1852, contains this passage: "In the
summer of 1848, the author of the following tale was a passenger on
board of a steamboat from New Orleans to Cincinnati. During the
passage--one of the most prolonged and uncomfortable in the annals of
western river navigation--the plot of this story was arranged. Many of
its incidents, and all of its descriptions of steamboat life will be
recognized by the voyager on the Mississippi." Since that time the
author has travelled on the upper waters of the great river.
His last book, by a coincidence at the present time, also relates to
the Mississippi. Nearly a generation has passed away between the first
and the last; and the latter is the writer's seventy-fifth book. The
author has endeavored to make his works correct in facts and
descriptions, as well as in moral tendency; and in the preparation of
them he has travelled over fifty thousand miles by sea and land.
To his young friends,--some of the earlier of whom are now middle-aged
men and women, with boys and girls of their own, reading the same books
their fathers and mothers read a quarter of a century ago,--to his
young friends the author again returns his sincere and hearty thanks
for the favor they have bestowed upon his numerous volumes.
DORCHESTER, MASS.,
June 1, 1881.
CONTENTS.
PAGE
CHAPTER I.
IN CAPTAIN BOOMSBY'S SALOON 11
CHAPTER II.
FOUR THOUSAND DOLLARS 23
CHAPTER III.
ADIEU TO THE BOOMSBYS 34
CHAPTER IV.
NICK BOOMSBY HAS ASPIRATIONS 47
CHAPTER V.
THE STRANGE MOVEMENT OF THE ISLANDER 59
CHAPTER VI.
A LIVELY CHASE 71
CHAPTER VII.
A FOG OFF THE FLORIDA COAST 81
CHAPTER VIII.
A PORT IN A STORM 93
CHAPTER IX.
A VISIT FROM AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE 104
CHAPTER X.
INTELLIGENCE OF THE ISLANDER 116
CHAPTER XI.
DIFFICULT NAVIGATION 127
CHAPTER XII.
THE CALAMITY ON FRENCH REEF 138
CHAPTER XIII.
A NIGHT LOST IN THE STORM 149
CHAPTER XIV.
LOOKING FOR THE ISLANDER 160
CHAPTER XV.
A PARTIAL SOLUTION OF THE MYSTERY 172
CHAPTER XVI.
ACROSS THE GULF OF MEXICO 184
CHAPTER XVII.
THE SYLVANIA IN AMBUSH 196
CHAPTER XVIII.
HOW NICK BOOMSBY MANAGED HIS CASE 208
CHAPTER XIX.
A SEARCH FOR THE LOST TREASURE 220
CHAPTER XX.
THE THEORY AND THE FACTS 231
CHAPTER XXI.
UP THE MISSISSIPPI 242
CHAPTER XXII.
THE ISLANDER IN A BAD FIX 253
CHAPTER XXIII.
AN EMBARRASSING SITUATION 265
CHAPTER XXIV.
A CREVASSE ON THE MISSISSIPPI 277
CHAPTER XXV.
SAILING ACROSS THE FIELDS 289
CHAPTER XXVI.
A DESPERATE STRUGGLE WITH THE RUSHING WATERS 301
CHAPTER XXVII.
THE PLANTER AND HIS FAMILY 312
CHAPTER XXVIII.
A DISTINGUISHED PASSENGER 324
CHAPTER XXIX.
UP THE RIVER FOR MANY DAYS 335
CHAPTER XXX.
UP ANOTHER RIVER AND HOME AGAIN 347
UP THE RIVER;
OR,
YACHTING ON THE MISSISSIPPI.
CHAPTER I.
IN CAPTAIN BOOMSBY'S SALOON.
"I don't think it's quite the thing, Alick," said my cousin, Owen
Garningham, as we were walking through Bay Street after our return to
Jacksonville from the interior of Florida.
"What is not quite the thing, Owen?" I inquired, for he had given me no
clue to what he was thinking about.
"After I chartered your steamer for a year to come here, and go up the
Mississippi River--by the way, this river is called 'The Father of
Waters,' isn't it?" asked Owen, flying off from the subject in his
mind, as he was in the habit of doing.
"Every schoolboy in this country learns that from his geography," I
replied.
"Happily, I was never a schoolboy in this country, and I didn't find it
out from the geography. If the Mississippi is the Father of Waters, can
you tell me who is the mother of them?"
"The Miss'ouri."
"O, ah! Don't you feel faint, Captain Alick?" added Owen, stopping
short on the sidewalk, and gazing into my face with a look of mock
anxiety.
"Not at all; I think I could swallow a burly Briton or two, if the
occasion required."
"Don't do it! It would ruin your digestion. But it strikes me those two
rivers are but one."
"I think so, too, and they ought to be. Father and mother--man and
wife--ought to be one," I answered, as indifferently as I could. "But
something was not quite the thing; and if there is anything in this
country that is not quite the thing, I want to know what it is."
"When I chartered the Sylvania to come down here, and then go up the
'Father of Waters,' it isn't quite the thing for your father to declare
the whole thing off at this point of the cruise," replied Owen. "I was
going to have a jolly good time going up the river."
"You may have it yet, for I have given you a cordial invitation to go
'up the river' with me; and I mean every word I said about the matter,"
I added, in soothing tones.
"But your father says the charter arrangement is ended, and you may go
where you like in your steamer."
"And I concluded at once to carry out all the arrangements for this
trip, just as we made them at Detroit," I replied. "I have invited the
Shepards and the Tiffanys to join us, and everything will go on just as
it did before, except that you will not pay the bills."
"Which means that, if I join you at all, I shall not be myself,"
returned Owen, with a look of disgust. "In other words, I shall not be
my own master, and I must go where my uncle and you may choose to take
me."
"Not at all; we are going up the Mississippi simply because that is the
route you selected, and because I desire to carry out your plan of
travel to the letter," I replied, rather warmly. "I don't think I could
do anything more to meet your views than I have done."
"You are as noble, grand, magnanimous, as it is possible for any fellow
to be, Alick; but that don't make me any more willing to be under
obligations to you every day of my life."
"You need feel under no obligations to me."
"Ah, but I do, you see; and I still think it was not just the thing to
break away from the written agreement we made," continued Owen, unable
to conceal his vexation.
"I think you ought not to say another word in that line of remark,
Owen. A contract to do anything fraudulent is void from the beginning.
Do you remember for what purpose you chartered the Sylvania?"
"If you won't say another word about it, Alick, I won't!" exclaimed my
cousin, extending his hand to me, which I immediately grasped.
"I won't, unless you drive me to it," I replied. "I have not reminded
you of what occurred while we were coming South, and I never will, for
I think Carrington was the villain of the drama, and not you."
"You are right, Alick; and you are the best fellow that ever lived!"
protested Owen. "But I would like to pay my share of the expenses of
the cruise from this day, as I have done before. I shall feel better
about it if I do."
"I will speak to my father about that. I am sure I don't object to your
paying your share," I answered. "I am willing to carry out the
agreement just as we made it; but my father takes a different view of
the subject."
"I know he does, and I can't blame him," replied Owen. "He means simply
to say that his son shall be under no obligations to me, after what has
happened."
"Let us say nothing more about this matter, Owen," I added; "it is not
a pleasant topic to me, any more than it was to him."
"When do we sail, if I sail with you, Alick?" he asked.
"To-morrow morning; and we should be on board to-night, ready for an
early start, for we have to conform to the tide on the bar at the mouth
of the river. The Tiffanys will go with us, but the Shepards have not
yet accepted the invitation I gave them."
"I am going to Colonel Shepard's house now, and I will find out whether
they are going or not," said Owen, as we came to a street leading to
St. James's Square, where Colonel Shepard's house was located.
"And I will drop into Captain Boomsby's saloon," I added.
"The beast Boomsby! Why do you go there, Alick?" demanded Owen, with a
look of disgust and astonishment in his face.
"I lived with him for years, and I will just say good-by to him, for I
may never see him again. I hope I never shall, at any rate. He has
abused and wronged me, but I am willing to forgive him if he will only
keep out of my way."
"'Pon my word, I believe you would forgive a man if he blew your brains
out, Alick?"
"If it were a matter of brains, I couldn't do it; but if I had heart
enough left, I would try to forgive him if he was sorry for what he had
done."
"You forgave me, and it is easy enough for you to do the same with
Beast Boomsby," added Owen, as he turned up the street to his
destination.
I had been made the victim of a plot, and taught to believe that my
father, Sir Bent Garningham, was dead. The little steamer Sylvania was
my own property, for I had earned it by saving the lives of her
original owner and his family. Pike Carrington, my father's solicitor
in England, had induced the son of my father's younger brother to make
an attempt to get me "out of the way."
The villain had acted more for his own interest than for that of my
cousin. They had called in my old enemy Captain Parker Boomsby, and
sent him to Florida in one steamer, while Owen went with me in the
Sylvania. My friend Robert Washburn, the mate of the steam-yacht, had
discovered the plot, and we had been on our guard night and day to meet
any treachery.
Captain Boomsby claimed me and all that I had, when he learned that my
father was dead. He had done his best to obtain the steam-yacht, but
his unfortunate habit of drinking too much whiskey had defeated his
plan. In his attempt to destroy me he had taken the life of the
solicitor.
On our voyage, "going South," we had encountered a heavy gale in the
Gulf of St. Lawrence. Owen Garningham, my cousin, had been swept from
the hurricane-deck of the Sylvania by the raging sea. At the risk of my
own, I had saved his life. This act had conquered him, and he no longer
took any interest in the plan to destroy me, if he had ever thought of
anything so bad as this. He became my strong friend, and had no further
desire to rob me of my father's estate, or to obtain the title, for
which he cared more than I did.
The Shepards were a family we first met at a regatta in Portland
Harbor. Owen had become deeply interested in Miss Edith, the daughter,
and, at his invitation, the family had come most of the way to Florida
in the steamer. We had been up the Ocklawaha River to Lake Griffin, and
up the St. Johns as far as any steamer could go. My father, who had
left me at college in Montomercy, to attend to his affairs in England,
had been called to India on business. His absence was the opportunity
for the conspirators, and they destroyed our letters.
When I learned that my father was not dead, I had written to him. He
had followed me up the St. Johns, and appeared in time to save me from
the bullet of one of Captain Boomsby's agents. He learned the whole
truth from me, and at once cancelled the charter by which my cousin
Owen was to have the use of the steamer for a year, one half of which
had now expired.
The Tiffanys were father and daughter, whom the crew of the Sylvania
had saved from a fire at St. Augustine. The gentleman was an intimate
friend of my father, who requested him to see me when he visited this
country. His daughter Margie, if not as pretty as Edith Shepard,
interested me more. As arranged before we left Detroit, we were to go
up the Mississippi River. The Tiffanys had accepted the invitation to
join us, for they were tourists for pleasure and observation.
My father was an English baronet, succeeding to the title and estates
by the death of an elder brother. He had served in the army for many
years, and had attained the rank of major. He was better pleased to be
called by his military than by his family title, in this republican
land. But he was too proud to allow me to continue in the employ of my
cousin, though he did not object to his nephew as a passenger when I
desired it. He left everything to me to manage as I pleased after he
had cancelled the charter agreement. With this abstract of previous
events my readers will be prepared to understand what is to follow.
Captain Boomsby's saloon was on Bay Street. He had a bar for the white
and respectable customers on that street, and another in the rear for
negroes. I was never even tempted to drink any intoxicating beverages;
and when he became a rumseller, I thought my tyrant had found his
proper level. His son Nick tended the front bar, while he waited upon
the negroes, who imbibed the cheapest corn-whiskey and apple-brandy by
the tumbler-full at a dram.
When I went into the saloon Captain Boomsby was seated in the rear of
the room, where he had a view of both bars. He was at least half "full"
himself. He was badly bloated, and his face was red and almost
honeycombed with toddy-blossoms.
"Well, Sandy, what do you want now?" demanded the saloon-keeper, when I
came into his presence. He did not call me "Alick," as others did, but
still used the name by which I had been known when he took me from the
poor-house in the State of Maine.
"Nothing, Captain Boomsby; only we sail to-morrow, and I thought I
would say good-by to you, for I may never see you again," I replied.
"I never want to see you no more," growled he. "You've always behaved
bad ever since I fust knowed you, and you will come to some bad end
yet."
"I hope not," I said, seating myself.
"You sartin will. I took care on you when you was little, and done
everything I could for you; but you have worked agin me from the fust."
As I seated myself I saw a customer come up to the front bar. He had a
package, which he laid upon the counter while he poured out his dram.
"I don't think it's any use for you and me to talk over these things,"
I added, turning my eyes from the counter to the bloated face of my
former tyrant. "We shall not be likely to agree in regard to matters in
the past."
"You know just as well as I do that the steam-yacht you sail in
rightfully belongs to me," he added.
"I think not. If she belongs to anybody besides myself, it must be to
my father."
"That man ain't your father any more'n I am."
At that moment a rather rough-looking man came into the saloon, walked
far enough back to look into the negro bar, and then retreated.
"I think it has been fully proved that Major Garningham is my father,"
I replied.
I had scarcely spoken the words, as the rough-looking visitor was
retreating without any dram, when Nick made a flying leap over the
counter, and rushed out at the street door. The gentleman with the
package had his eyes upturned to the ceiling, in the act of draining
the tumbler in which he had elaborately stirred up the fiery mixture.
[Illustration: "Nick rushed out at the street door." _Page 22._]
When Nick went over the counter the customer was startled. He saw, at
the same moment I discovered the fact, that the package he had laid
upon the counter was missing. He rushed out of the saloon like a crazy
man.